By Beak and Bone
by Hazelcloud
Summary: Wyrda Fate is one of the many forces influencing Eragon on his quest to de-throne Galbatorix! My version of books three and four.
1. By beak and bone

By beak and bone

Disclaimer: I don't own Eragon or Blagden.

Author's note: Every chapter with be a part of one of the many prophecies that have to do with Eragon. This one is Blagden's and is about the first line.

**By beak and bone**

_Wyrda…_

Fate in the ancient language. Wyrda was my first word.

I am Blagden, but that is not my true name, to find that you would have to look elsewhere.

I am Blagden, with my pearly white feathers, intelligence, and long life gifted to me by Evandar.

* * *

Coal black eyes peered out from a maple tree coolly surveying the surrounding area. They watched as a being stepped out of the trees into the clearing. A soft breath of wind ruffled the being's brown hair revealing sharp pointy ears. Deep green eyes flickered about as the being moved swiftly across the clearing, a silver dagger clutched in its hand. A regal white horse stepped into the clearing, following the first being. Another being rode on the horse's back. It wore shiny armor, that reflected the sunlight hurting the raven's eyes, and the being had a regal look about it. It moved an arm and the white horse was joined by many more as the procession moved forward, out of the clearing and into the beyond. The raven let out a caw and followed silently on wings of air. It knew that this procession was a signal that a battle was approaching, and that meant one thing. Food.

A few days later the battle began. The smell of blood and fresh meat wafted high into the air attracting birds of all kinds; the raven was one of the birds circling high above the scene. Swords clashed sending flashes or light and sound up to the birds. The raven swooped lower and surveyed the scene of destruction. A coarse shout brought his attention to a place where a pointy eared being fought with a tall muscular horned being. The swords flashed and the raven watched as the pointy eared being nimbly jumped out of the way reminding him of a rabbit. The swords flashed again and the pointy eared being gave a yelp of surprise as its foot caught in a hole in the sandy ground. It plummeted to the ground, and landed with a thump. When it landed its sword flew out of its hand and landed imbedded in the ground three feet away. The horned being raised its sword high above its head for the final blow, and bellowed in anticipation.

Something in the raven clicked an instinct it had never felt before caused it to fly over, each wing beat bringing it closer and closer to the horned being. Once it was within striking distance the raven attacked. It sunk its razor sharp beak into the unprotected eyes. The soft tissue gave way before the unforgiving beak, and a strange fire awoke in the raven. Again, and again it struck with merciless precision. The horned creature gave a howl of anguish as the light left its world, and blindness settled in. It dropped its sword and raised a massive hand to crush the raven, the reason of its misery. A sword flashed and the horned creatures head was hewn off. While the raven was attacking the pointy eared being had scrambled to its feet and rushed to its sword. The pointy eared being smiled at the raven crouching on the skull and began to whisper softly, sounds that made no sense to the raven's primitive brain. Suddenly, the color began to drain out of the raven's feathers, ebony gave way to a pearly white, and as the black slowly disappeared so did the confusion in the bird's mind. Intelligence blossomed and the rave focused on the being that it now knew was the elf-king Evandar. Evandar bent down and extended his hand, with a hop the now white raven perched on it. Evandar raised it to eye level and paused waiting for the bird's full attention. The raven noticed the horned urgals fleeing before the elves and in a flash realized that the urgal Evandar had killed must have been the Herndall, or chief urgal. It turned back to Evandar and fixed its coal black eyes on Evandar's cool green ones.

"Why did you attack, raven?" Evandar asked softly, puzzled. The raven made a hoarse sound as it cleared its throat, and uttered a single word.

"Wyrda!"

* * *

I am Blagden. I can see certain events in the future, almost like the dragon knuckles that predicted Eragon's future.

The minute the dragon bones where cast, the pearly white shafts tingled with power and the carvings flashed with magic. The dead dragon's power tapped into the energy of the world and focused on one thing. Eragon's future. The bone's tumbled and showed but a part of what can and is to be.

When I spoke to Eragon I revealed but another piece in the puzzle of his life, the great adventure that he has embarked on.

**Author's note: Please review! If you review I promise I will try and make the next chapter longer!**


	2. Beneath the Menoa Tree

**Beneath the roots of the Menoa Tree**

Rhunön had just gone to bed that night, when the dream came. A large dragon came to her; every one of its scales shone a different color. Blues, greens, and reds shone brightly as the dragon flew to a halt before her.

_Rhunön?_ It spoke to her through her mind but she could still hear its deep voice, which sounded like the crackling of logs in a fire.

"Yes?" She said. She knew she should have felt honored to see such a fantastic creature but all she felt was annoyance.

_I have a request…I need a sword. _It paused. _A rider's sword._

"No! I made an oath never to create instruments of death again," Rhunön yelled in rage.

_It is of great importance…_

"NO! A sword is an instrument of death!" She glared at the dragon.

_If you were not who you are I would have fried you for speaking to me in such a way. _The dragon growled angrily.

"If I wasn't who I am we would not be having this discussion!" She refused to back down. This obviously went too far for the dragon for he grabbed her. His claws chilled her right down to her bones.

_Look well._ The dragon growled and breathed out a stream of flames. The flames went from orange to deep blue. As Rhunön peered into the flames she saw Eragon Shadeslayer, the dragon rider who had come to visit her earlier that year. He appeared to be battling someone who was wielding Zar'roc. This puzzled her because Zar'roc had been Eragon's blade when he had visited. Suddenly, the blade he was fighting with shattered and Zar'roc was brought up to his throat. The vision faded away as the dragon holding her stopped breathing flames. _Eragon needs a rider's blade or he will perish. I trust that you will provide him with one. Leave it beneath the Menoa tree._ The dragon set her down and faded slowly away.

Weeks later Rhunön crouched beneath the Menoa tree a blade cradled gently in her arms. She had not forgotten the color of Saphira's scales and a brilliant blue sapphire was embedded in the hilt of the sword. She slid it out of its sheath, and peered down the length of the blade, which shone and was made from polished silver. Holding the sword carefully she traced the ink black symbol on the blade. The symbol read baen, which means sorrow in the ancient language. Sorrow because this blade had caused her to break her oath. Sorrow because this blade is an instrument of death. Sorrow because this blade was necessary. Sliding Baen back into its sheath she gazed at it a second longer before placing it gently in a hollow in the Menoa tree's roots. Then without a second glance she left and dismissed Baen from her mind.

Eragon meanwhile was flying to Ellesméra. Looking down he gazed at the crumpled note in his hand. It read:

_Eragon,_

_Please come to Ellesméra. I feel that my grip on life may be failing. There are things I need to teach you before I pass on._

_-The cripple who is whole_

It shook him to think that Oromis was dying. Even weak as Oromis was he had seemed like a pillar of strength, something solid in a world where everything was changing.

Much later, Eragon was dueling with Vanir. He had been in Ellesméra for weeks learning the last of the ways of the Rider's so that he could complete the many rituals required for the eggs and other ceremonies.

Vanir's blade crashed powerfully into Eragon's blade. The blade Eragon held quivered under the pressure. He had acquired a blade from a Varden blacksmith after Murtagh took Zar'roc from him in the battle on the burning plains. Unfortunately, the blade was of human make and paled in comparison to Zar'roc the elf-blade or even to a dwarf blade. Vanir's sword crashed into Eragon's sword again and this time the strain was too much for the little sword, it shattered into many deadly fragments that flew into the air. Both Vanir and Eragon stared at the broken blade.

"It seems that we shall have to continue this duel at a later date," Vanir said before bowing a leaving swiftly.

"Yes, we shall," Eragon said to himself. Saphira contacted him through the mind link.

_Little one?_

_My sword is broken…_

_Meet me at the Menoa tree. It is the closest place where I can land. Then we will go to Oromis and Glaedr. I am sure they won't mind that we are early._

_Alright…_Eragon walked quickly to meet Saphira. It was now apparent to him that no sword would ever be as good as Zar'roc. As he entered the clearing he gazed at the Menoa tree. Its upper branches reached for the sky as if beseeching a higher power. Suddenly, a thought hit him. He heard Solembum speaking again to him saying.

"When the time comes and you need a weapon, look under the roots of the Menoa tree,"

Hope filled him with a fiery feeling. Moving quickly he approached the tree, and knelt near the roots. Peering closely he looked over the roots looking for some clue, some difference in the uniform brown color and indents in the bark. A knot caught his attention squinting he bent down towards it. Some inner instinct whispered to him and sheathing his hand in magic he reached toward the knot and found that his hand slid in as if reaching into a puddle of mud. Something solid brushed against his reaching fingers, and he latched onto it drawing it out with a grunt. A glittering sword lay in his hands, its deep blue sapphire shone in the sunlight.

Wing beats caused him to look up. Saphira glided carefully down into the clearing.

_Saphira! Look!_ Eragon ran over and held up the sword. Its sapphire matched the color of Saphira's scales perfectly; it was obviously made for the two of them.

_Eragon, where did you get that? Is it a rider's sword?_ Excitement emanated from Saphira. Eragon drew the sword from its sheath and gazed at the ink-black symbol on its blade.

_It is a rider's sword; at least I think it is!_

_What does the symbol stand for?_ Saphira asked.

_I'm not sure; perhaps Oromis or Glaedr will know what it means._ Eragon answered. Climbing onto Saphira's back, they flew up to the ledge where Oromis and Glaedr's home was.

"Oromis! Glaedr!" Eragon called out. Oromis approached quickly, caught up in the urgency of Eragon's call.

"Yes, Eragon-finiarel?" Oromis asked. Glaedr's wing beats could be heard as he approached them from above.

"Look, what is this symbol?" Eragon asked excitedly. A sharp intake of breath was heard as Oromis saw that the sword Eragon held was indeed a rider's blade. He ran his fingers over the symbol thinking. Then he spoke softly.

"This is indeed a rider's blade, that symbol is _baen_. Baen means sorrow in the ancient language. Where ever did you get this sword?" Oromis exclaimed! Eragon breathed in deeply.

"I found it under the Menoa tree, just as Solembum predicted," He smiled. Now he had a sword that would be just a good as Zar'roc. He could feel it.

"Ah…A werecat told you, you would find a sword beneath the Menoa tree," Oromis said.

"Not exactly, but I sure am glad that I remembered his advice!" Eragon explained.

"Indeed, it is good to remember a werecat's words, they do not give advice very often," Oromis nodded. Eragon suddenly remembered the rest of what Solembum had said.

"He also said 'Then, when all seems lost and you power is insufficient, go to the rock of Kuthian and speak your name to open the Vault of Souls'," Eragon said. Recognition flashed on Oromis's face.

"Kuthian," Oromis whispered quietly. Suddenly, Blagden appeared and flew above.

"Wyrda!" He called. Landing on Oromis's shoulder he fixed his beady eyes on Eragon. "Kuthian!" He cried again. "Hold out your hand!" Blagden demanded. Eragon warily complied. Blagden placed a shiny black fragment of stone in his hand, before flying off. Closing his hand about the stone, he turned back to Oromis and asked the question that was burning in his mind.

"What do you know about the rock of Kuthian?" Eragon demanded.

"I will explain, just let me sit down," Oromis soothed, and they both entered his house. Seating themselves across from each other Oromis began. "What do you know about Ilirea?"

**Author's note: Alright this chapter is the longest I have ever written, approximately 1,464 words. Please review. If I don't get any reviews I am not going to continue writing this. So, please review if you want to read more!!**


	3. Mine blackened stone

**Mine blackened stone**

"What do you know about Ilirea?" Oromis began.

"You mean that the rock of Kuthian is in Ilirea!" Eragon cried excitedly.

"Please do not get ahead of me!" Oromis cried.

"Sorry, Master," Eragon bowed his head in shame.

"What do you know about Ilirea?" Oromis repeated himself patiently.

"Um…Ilirea is present-day Uru'baen!" Eragon racked his brain trying to remember other bits of information.

"Correct, and Uru'baen used to be the elven city Ilirea. When the Ilirea was first built the current elven-king built a magnificent castle and had it infused with elven magic. The elves had paid a hefty price to obtain pure black stone from the dwarves, enough stone to build a whole castle. Unknown by the elves, the stone that they used was infused with night-silver; by infused I really mean that the stone had veins of the precious metal night-silver in it. Now, night-silver already has its own aura which suggests that night-silver has its own magic. Night-silver is so rare that no known source of it exists anymore. When humans took over the city, they took apart the castle and used only a little of the stone in the castle, what they did with the rest of the stone is a mystery. The stone is sometimes called the rock of Kuthian because Kuthian was the elven-king at the time the castle was built," Oromis finished his lecture and paused to let the information sink in. Eragon mulled over the information carefully.

"Oh," Eragon responded weakly. All clues pointed to the fact that the Vault of Souls was in Galbatorix's own castle.

"Oh indeed. May I see that rock that Blagden gave you?" Oromis asked.

"Of course," Eragon numbly handed the shiny black stone over. Oromis examined the rock carefully.

"If I am not mistaken, this is a fragment of the rock of Kuthian. See this vein of dark silver that is night-silver. I am extremely interested in how Blagden got this, but I doubt that he will tell me," Oromis said softly. Eragon reached forward and took the stone. It was very smooth and polished to perfection.

"Night-silver," Eragon murmured.

"Yes, it is said that if you gaze into it, you can learn a great deal. A great deal specifically about what yourself and the rest of the rock of Kuthian," Oromis informed Eragon.

"How do you know that?" Eragon asked.

"A little werecat told me," Oromis said mysteriously.

"I see," Eragon said.

_Saphira, this could prove to be most useful!_

_Indeed little one, that stone has a bright aura._

_You can see its aura?_

_Yes, now quit wasting time. Look into it!_

"I am going to look," Eragon told Oromis. Then he gazed deep into the stone. The shiny dark vein of night-silver expanded, and pictures began to form in its depths.

**Author's note: Sorry for the short chapter, please review.**


	4. Sees rooks and crooks

Sees rooks and crooks

**Sees rooks and crooks**

Eragon gazed deep into the stone that he held clutched in his hand. The shiny dark vein of night-silver expanded, and pictures began to form in its depths. He allowed himself to lose sight of the 'now' and immersed himself in the stone, forgetting even Saphira. If he had looked at his hands he would have noticed black magic shimmering around the stone, but he did not. The stone was now the sole owner of his attention. The images whisked him away revealing to him a truth, a key to unlock the secrets of so much.

_The surroundings were blurred as if being viewed through water. Colors ran and melted together, as if they were paint on some giant palette. Slowly, the picture sharpened and fine-tuned its self to fit Eragon's need._

_A castle loomed up ahead, a dreadful phantom waiting for its prey. The rough grey stone that made up most of the castle gave way in places to a sleek black stone threaded with night-silver. The wind carried Eragon closer to the castle, and swirled around the castle, causing him to rise higher and higher. At the peak of the single tower a menacing figure stood outlined against the rising sun. Galbatorix. Eragon flinched in spite of himself unable to shake the feeling that this was perhaps more than just a picture, which perhaps it was at least in some way true._

_Galbatorix looked up as Eragon flew past but did not appear to see him. A great wooden door stood before Eragon but the wind just hurled him into and through the obstacle as if it did not exist. Eragon relaxed believing himself safe for the moment. Glancing about him, he took up the task of memorizing the passages that he was hurled through. The wind carried him along swiftly though and much escaped his gaze._

_Quite suddenly, Eragon found himself in a dark chamber that sparkled with mysterious promises. Thousands of voices rang in his ears, each whispering, each grasping for his attention. Clearing his mind of fear Eragon listened, and realized that each voice repeated the same thing._

_Estel._

_The colors began to blur again, and a sharp coldness struck him._

Gasping for air Eragon opened his eyes, he felt as if he were surfacing after being dunked in cold water. Blinking Eragon peered about and realized that it was no longer mid-day, indeed the sun was setting.

_Little one! Are you back in the world of the living?_

_Yes, how long was I-_

_You have been staring into that stone for quite a while. This is the second setting of the sun, since you looked into that stone. I have been so worried; I could not contact you at all._

_I'm sorry; I did not realize how long it had been. I doubt that even if I had realized that I would have been able to do anything about it. The stone seemed to have a mind of its own, and a purpose that it must fulfill._

_Speaking of the stone, where is it?_

_What?_ Eragon looked down and to his disbelief found that the stone was indeed gone. He could not remember releasing it.

_What do you mean 'what'? The stone that you have just spent two days gazing into. The stone I almost lost you too! _Anger emanated in waves from Saphira.

"No, I just can not remember letting go of the stone," Eragon said out loud, unaware that he had switched forms of communication.

"It probably has returned, to the rest of the night-silver," Oromis said. Eragon jumped. He had not noticed that Oromis and Glaedr had been sitting across from him watching his reaction.

"Oh," Eragon nodded, hoping that Oromis's answer would satisfy Saphira.

_Oh! How inarticulate can you get? Eragon you need to come back to reality!_ Saphira growled.

_What is your problem, Saphira? Every since I got back from my… 'adventure', you have been being so snappy!_

_Oh, Eragon. You just frightened me so much. I can not bear the thought of losing you. Also, something about the stone began to frighten me. Black magic shimmered about your hands when you first gazed into the stone. I was afraid that it was a trap set up by Galbatorix. It also shone at night-_

_You mean it lit up?_

_No, it shone with black light. I do not know how to explain it. Somehow it glowed from the inside, not with white bright light, black light._

_That is really odd. _

_Do you remember any of this? Oromis and I tried talking to you but you did not respond._

_No, Saphira. I do not remember any of it. I was pulled out of my body, and I traveled to Galbatorix's castle._

_You went to his castle! Did you see him? Did he see you? Did you discover a secret or some sort of key that we can use to defeat Galbatorix?_

_Slow down. I can only answer one question at a time._

_Alright. Did you see Galbatorix when you went to his castle?_

_Yes, I did. He was standing at the top of the only tower in the castle._

_Oh, did he see you?_

_I do not think that he saw me. He did glance up but I think that the magic of the night-silver shielded and concealed me some how._

_I am so glad that he did not see you, little one. I was so worried you must promise me that you will not do anything like that again!_

_I am sorry Saphira. I really do not believe that I had a choice in the matter, but if it makes you feel better I will promise that to you._

_Thank you, Eragon. That eases my conscience a lot, anything that happens to you is partly my fault._

_Nonsense, Saphira. Now please be silent, I learned something that I believe will be very important. When I was looking into the stone, the wind carried me to a chamber deep within Galbatorix's castle. It was studded with night-silver, and I heard many voices crying out to me, practically begging to be heard. They all whispered the same thing. Estel._

_Estel? What is it? What does it mean?_

_I am not sure, Saphira but somehow I believe that this is the key that we need to defeat Galbatorix._

_A word, a single word. Eragon, I do not believe that this word will defeat Galbatorix. Did you learn anything else?_

_Yes, I believe that we are meant to go to Galbatorix's castle and find this dark chamber!_

_What?_

_Think about it! Why would the stone show me how to get to this chamber if I was not meant to go and seek it out? Please believe me; I am sure that we need to go to his castle._

_Going there will be like walking up to Galbatorix himself and announcing our plans! Eragon, this is crazy!_

_Please Saphira! I am sure of it!_

_If Oromis agrees that we should go there then we will Eragon._

Eragon told Oromis of his vision from the stone, and to both his and Saphira's surprise Oromis agreed that they should head to Galbatorix's castle. Oromis told them that he had no more to teach them and that it was time for them to start making their own decisions. That said Oromis advised that they should head out soon, and the next day they left Ellesméra, to throw themselves into the path of danger.

**Author's note: I hope that you enjoyed this chapter: please review!**


	5. The Vault of Souls

Speak Your Name to Open the Vault of Souls

**Speak Your Name to Open the Vault of Souls**

Eragon watched the servant's door of the castle open for about the fiftieth time that day. His brown hair had been dyed black for the occasion and he was wearing the outfit of a page.

_What are you waiting for?_

Eragon did not reply to Saphira, for that might give away his position, instead he began to approach the wooden door. He would have entered earlier but his nerves had been acting up, and he knew he would have made a stupid mistake. One mistake could definitely cost you your life if you were sneaking into Galbatorix's castle.

He entered and was ignored by the servants. Walking quickly he started down the adjoining hallway. Everything was going according to plan, which was slightly worrisome. He frowned peering carefully at each door that he passed. In truth he had almost no idea where he was supposed to go now. He had not asked any question about the castle: questions he knew from personal experience could kill. Mentally he tried to ignore memories of Brom and himself trying to find out about the Ra'rac.

Suddenly, he found himself face to face with a dead end. The wall in front of him shimmered black. He turned to retrace his steps but something stopped him. He began to examine the wall. Slowly, he ran his fingers gently across the wall where the edges of the door would have been if there had been a door. Black light shone through the wall and a section of the wall disappeared. Eragon took a deep breath and entered the room. It was the dark chamber from the stone. He looked about himself and found that the whole chamber was a deep black with veins of night-silver shimmering darkly. He moved forward and proceeded to trip over something lying on the floor. Struggling to his feet, he carefully picked up the item. It was the stone. The very stone that had shone him this chamber.

"Where am I?" Eragon breathed softly. Nothing answered; truthfully he had not been expecting an answer. "Now what am I supposed to do, I need to find the Vault of Souls!" He muttered violently. Somehow he had felt that this chamber would have the answers to his question.

He turned to leave the chamber, and discovered to his despair that the door was gone. An uncomfortable feeling hit him, he felt that he was being watched by someone. Slowly, he turned around, and gasped. Floating about two feet off the ground by the wall of the room across from him was a being. At first it appeared to be a human, then Eragon noticed that all of its features were changing; rhythmically shifting in no pattern that he could identify. Its skin tone, hair color, facial features, even the length of its appendages, all changed. The only thing that did not change he noticed with a shiver was the eyes. The eyes were deep black, and watched him coldly.

"Who are you?" He finally managed to make his mouth work.

"I am Soul," The being said slowly. The voice began deep and rich, and slowly shifted like everything else about it.

"Where am I?" Eragon was paralyzed with fear.

"A pity, I thought perhaps you had already figured that out," Soul sounded disappointed.

"The Vault of Souls!" Eragon grinned. Soul made no response. "But I don't know my name?"

"Must I figure everything out for you?" Soul pointed to the stone in Eragon's hand. "Think hard,"

"Oh…" It dawned on Eragon that perhaps he did know his true name.

"Don't say it yet, place the stone on the floor," Soul instructed carefully. Eragon did as Soul instructed and watched as the stone flew into the beings hand. "Now what is your name?"

"Estel," Eragon murmured. Soul ground the stone to dust in its palm, and scattered the dust into the air in front of the wall.

"Estel!" Soul commanded. The wall drew apart fluidly, and black light shone out. A figure was approaching them. It stepped through the portal. Eragon found himself looking at a mirror image of himself, except something was different. Then he realized that every detail of him seemed sharper and more pronounced. The images ears were sharp, and clear, everything was clearer in fact.

"Is that me?" Eragon murmured awestruck. Soul chuckled.

"That is your soul," Soul said.

"My whole soul," Eragon looked back at his soul.

"No, not your whole soul. A piece of your soul has been with you everyday since you were born," Soul amended.

"How will having my soul help me defeat Galbatorix?" Eragon said.

"Your soul decides you're the strength of your magic, and what types of magic will work for you," Soul said.

"But the elves say that magic is just energy," Eragon said.

"The elves are very close-minded. If you join with your soul everything will be sharper, your anger, sorrow, other emotions, and magic to name a few. If you are strong of heart, mind, and purpose your soul will allow you to have a greater control over the types of spells that you will be able to perform," Soul explained.

"Really? Then I am ready, I need this in order to defeat Galbatorix!" Eragon exclaimed happily, but his spirits were dampened when Soul merely smiled sadly and shook its head.

"I need to warn you of something. When your soul is within you, you have to spiritual ties to this land. If you die with your soul in you, you are dead and gone forever. Most people survive in spirit which is how shades obtain spirits, of course. Spirits and souls are really the same thing here," Soul said, its voice devoid of any emotion.

"Oh," Eragon suddenly feared death. If he chose this and perished then he would not survive. Still, the greater good had to go first sometimes. He made his decision. "I would still like to have my soul," A smile blossomed suddenly on Soul's face.

"Then you have passed the first test, you have proven yourself no coward and worthy enough to have complete control of yourself," With that Soul motioned Eragon's soul forward. "Grasp hands and allow your two selves to flow together," Soul instructed. Eragon moved forward and grasped his soul's surprisingly substantial hand. He felt as though he was melting partly, and a burst of warmth flowed into him. This he realized was his good side. Then a cold chill burst into him. That must be his darker side. Then the transformation was over. Gasping he turned to face Soul, he felt no different.

"Estel means hope in another language," Soul said. "Whose hope you are is up to you, Galbatorix, the Varden, or another. Go Eragon and shape your destiny," With that Soul faded from view and Eragon was left staring at an empty chamber. Soul's words rang in his ears.

Whose hope you are is up to you.

**Author's note: Alright, I am quite proud of this chapter even though it is not amazingly long! Please review, I really want to know what you think of this chapter.**


	6. And bloody brooks

And bloody brooks

**And bloody brooks**

Swords flashed in the throne room as Murtagh watched frozen from next to Galbatorix's throne. He knew that unless he was ordered to attack he would not. Eragon was his brother even though he had renounced him, and King Galbatorix was his liege-lord even though he had been forced into it. Luckily, King Galbatorix was so absorbed in the battle; he was never called to help.

Minutes later, Murtagh stared at the head of the man lying at the foot of the throne. Blood streamed from the many wounds that covered the body, forming thin red brooks of blood.

"Murtagh…" A voice said coldly.

**Author's note: Sorry, I am ashamed of how short this chapter is…but I wanted your opinions! Who do you think should win, Eragon or Galbatorix? If no one reviews I'll just pick one, and uh… don't worry I have a plotline either way!**


	7. The battle

Thanks so much to Greendagger9900; I took your opinion into account

**Thanks so much to Greendagger9900; I took your opinion into account! (Yeah it's a good thing you reviewed because I almost killed Saphira!)**

"Murtagh…" A voice said coldly. Eragon was approaching Murtagh, his sword gripped in his hand. Murtagh continued to stare at the head of the man lying at the foot of the throne. Blood streamed from the many wounds that covered the body, forming thin red brooks of blood. If only he could warn Eragon, that it was not over yet, but he had been forbidden to tell of this new deception. The magic surrounding the head of the dead man faded revealing that the man was not King Galbatorix but rather Sloan the butcher. Eragon noticed and let out a gasp. "What?"

"You weakling Eragon!" King Galbatorix laughed and stepped out from behind the throne. "Did you really think that I would let you win? Did you really think that I was really that bad at handling a sword?" Eragon let out a roar and leapt at the king. Galbatorix blocked the blow with a lazy flick of his sword. Eragon retreated and called up his emotions from deep within himself, and then he lashed out, not with a sword but with magic. Galbatorix was caught off guard and barely had time to call up a shield. Eragon's magic swamped the king and broke down his shield. As Galbatorix fell to the ground he managed one last sentence.

"But how ever did you get that much magic?" He gasped, and then died. As his body landed with a thump on the palace floor a roar was heard. It sounded as if the creature that was making the sound had had its heart broken twice over.

"Shurikan," Murtagh murmured. Then he fell to his knees as a painful sensation ripped through his body. Something inside him was breaking, and he didn't know what it was.

"Murtagh!" Eragon called but this time he sounded worried. Murtagh blinked once and then lost consciousness.

_Saphira?_ Eragon called to his dragon. _Come quickly!_

_Have you done it, little one?_ She asked.

_Yes, but I don't feel the way I thought I would. I feel rotten._ He said sadly.

_Don't worry. I'm coming._ She said.

Eragon looked up at the sound of wing beats, but to his surprise it was Thorn. Eragon stepped away from Murtagh and watched as Thorn carefully went to examine him.

"Is he dead?" Eragon asked nervously. Thorn looked up and shook his head.

_No, but something is wrong. I cannot contact him at all, and he feels feverish._ Thorn said worriedly. Eragon ran and grasped Murtagh's hand.

"You're right but I don't know what to do," Eragon answered. Saphira entered the throne room the same way Thorn had, through the smashed windowpane. She settled down, and Eragon filled her in on what had happened. Suddenly, he looked at Murtagh. Murtagh was covered in sweat and was shaking violently. Then to everyone's surprise he blinked and opened his eyes.

"The bonds, our vows, their gone!" He cried. Thorn let out a triumphant roar, and Eragon smiled. The war would now be ended. The king was gone, peace could now return to Alagaesia.

**Author's note: Well, I predict that there shall be only one more chapter, so enjoy!**


	8. The Aftermath

The Aftermath

**The Aftermath**

Eragon had grown bitter with age, though truthfully it had only been but a year since he had defeated Galbatorix and ended that reign of terror. Murtagh's vows had been broken, and a celebration had ensued. The next few months had been pleasant but the peace didn't last for him and Saphira. It had taken ages to find the last egg; its green color blended it in with the jade rock garden where it had been planted. Then the elves had taken the egg and refused to let any humans near it. They claimed that they were preventing any future 'Galbatorix' or 'Murtagh' type riders. Murtagh and Thorn had left Alagaesia for it was too hard for them too deal with all of the hatred and the constant callings of the crowds who wanted them hanged. When Thorn had left and the green egg showed no signs of hatching Saphira retreated into herself speaking mostly with Eragon. But the decision that the civilians of the empire had reached was the last straw…

_I saved them from Galbatorix, how could they have forgotten that so quickly? _Eragon cried.

_They are afraid, and too easily swayed by their new king. He is only exiling you because he believes that you are a threat to his power. _Saphira sounded tired.

_I don't want any of his power!_

_I know that but he won't believe you. At least we might find Thorn and Murtagh._ Saphira said. Eragon sensed her excitement when she mentioned Thorn.

_If leaving Alagaesia makes you happy, then I will just go along with this crazy plan._ Eragon sighed.

_The leaving saddens me but I would like to see Thorn again._ Saphira said.

Days later Eragon stood alone on a pebbly beach watching as a boat sailed away. It was a strange but fair vessel that was completely of elven make. Eragon left out a long aching cry. The people on the boat turned and even though their cowls concealed their faces he knew that they had been crying. The two tallest were Roran, and Arya. Both of his friends had come to see him off, along with a bunch of elves who mourned the passing of the rider's.

Eragon released a sigh and with it all of his longing's for Alagaesia. There was nothing he could do about it; after all it had been foretold in his dreams and by Angela. As he turned to find Saphira, a smile lit up his face. Two dragons soared up in the sky. One was blue and the other was red.

**Author's note: Thank you so much to both of my reviewers! I'm sorry that the chapters were so short for this story; I'm trying to work on that. Well this is officially the last chapter of ****By Beak and Bone****, so I hope you enjoyed it. Reviews are still appreciated!**


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